Partnership
by The Sarcastic Typo
Summary: Ecklie and his wife have a nice partnership. EcklieOFC.


**Title:** Partnership  
**Summary**: Ecklie and his wife have a very nice partnership.  
**Pairing: **Ecklie/OFC  
**Rating:** R  
**Disclaimer:** Yes. They're all mine. Also, pigs can fly now.  
**Author's Notes:** For csi50, the prompt 'partners.' Thanks for the beta, Kelly.

His hands shook as they slid down her back.

They were kissing, both more than slightly drunk—it was the only way this ever happened—and moving together on their couch, gasping and panting as they did so.

Conrad sighed against Rebecca's neck, kissing the pale skin and watching it flush under his lips, his hands sliding back up her back to tangle in her long black hair. Rebecca had always been an elegant woman, tall and thin, with sharp features. She was attractive, but not many men stayed around long enough to notice—she had a vicious tongue and her biting sarcasm tore through any weakness, any stupidity.

He remembered when they first met—in the library, during their college years. He had been studying forensic science, and she was knee deep in law books. It was there he'd witnessed that acid wit and he'd liked her ever since.

(_"You moron!" she exclaimed in a deadly tone, glaring daggers at the hapless young man who had interrupted her studying in order to ask her out. "While I have no doubt that your crude, unpolished pick up lines work on most of the brainless idiots who pass themselves off as students around here, to me, and those of us trying to study and make something of ourselves, it's extremely irritating! I don't have time to waste on frivolities—get out of my sight!"_

_The young man had blinked, shocked, and scampered away, and Conrad couldn't help but chuckle from the aisle of books where he was standing._

_She turned to glare at him. "What, pray tell, is so funny?"_

"_Why, nothing—I was merely expecting him to faint. That really wasn't fair, you know—you're not supposed to engage in a battle of wits with the unarmed."_

_She'd smirked at him, then, and turned back to her books. "I don't play fair," she added, lazily, not looking back at him._

"_Good," he responded, grabbing the book he'd been searching for off the shelf. "Only the nice play fair. And, as we all know, nice guys—and women—finish last."_

"_Rebecca Anderson," she said—again, not looking up._

_He smiled. "Conrad Ecklie." He sat down at the table next to her._)

They were in their bedroom, now, and were slowly removing clothing, touching and kissing each bit of newly uncovered skin as they did. He lazily traced patterns on her skin, spurred on by her soft sighs.

Conrad and Rebecca were best friends, and had been for years; their easy banter united them—they were both extremely sarcastic—and their mutual interest in the law brought them closer together.

The start of their relationship—if it could even be called such at all—had been a year and a half earlier, after two years of friendship: born, of course, of too many martinis and a school-end high.

(_"God, Con, I don't think I've ever been this drunk," she said, holding back a giggle, as she and Conrad fell onto the couch in his apartment._

"_Join the club," he responded, groaning. "The hangover we're going to have is going to be deadly."_

"_Deadly?" she asked._

"_For everyone else. Us, with pounding headaches and increased irritability? Oh, this city is done for."_

_She did giggle, that time, and he pretended not to notice, which was why their friendship worked so well. "Come here," she said, eventually, pulling him closer._

_They kissed._

"_Well, that was unexpected," Conrad said, blinking, as they broke apart._

"_Please. People have thought we were fucking for years."_

_Conrad snorted. "And what? You wanted to prove them right?"_

"_It's a nice change from proving them wrong." She smirked. "Well?"_

"_All right."_

_They kissed again._)

Their gasping and moaning filled the air now, as they writhed together, tangled in their sheets. The touching and panting continued, as their alcohol-clouded minds sent electrical impulses from nowhere to nowhere.

Their relationship wasn't very passionate, because neither of them were all that attracted to the other—they had feelings of mutual affection, of course, because they were good friends—but it was very beneficial to them. Conrad never got targeted by some of the more idiotic groups who were always trying to find people different from them, and Rebecca could be a feminist without annoying questions being asked.

So, really, it had seemed only natural that he propose.

(_The dinner reservation was at a high-end restaurant that Conrad really couldn't afford, but had decided on anyway because he thought he ought to do something right. He wasn't nervous, really, because this didn't seem like much more than the obvious—it was what he was supposed to do._

"_Conrad, why are we here?" she asked at the beginning, always having been an extremely shrewd woman. "Neither of us can afford this place, and neither of us like overdressing for dinner."_

"_Well, I was going to wait, but if you're intent on ruining my plans, I'll just ask now. Rebecca, will you marry me?" he asked, showing her the ring he'd picked out._

_She smiled at him. "You're supposed to get down on one knee," she teased, and he rolled his eyes at her. "Of course I'll marry you, Conrad. Now let's enjoy this damn dinner, since we're going to be paying for it six months from now."_

"_Never say I didn't try to be romantic."_

"_I don't want romantic, Con. If I did, why in the world would I marry you?"_

"_It's a good thing, too, because I feel like an idiot all dressed up in a tux, just for dinner."_

"_That makes two of us."_)

The lights were off, and Rebecca was curled against his side, now, her soft hair covering her face. He smoothed it away; the frown lines that were prominent when she was awake were faded in sleep, and Conrad watched her for a little bit as the alcohol buzz slowly faded.

They'd been married for a year, since yesterday, and so far it had beena great partnership. They worked well together, supporting the other financially and emotionally, and it was incredibly convenient having a close friend so readily available. They weren't intimate often—usually only on special occasions, or if one or both were particularly despondent—but it didn't matter. Conrad and Rebecca were best friends, and they depended on each other.

Eventually, however, Conrad would start concentrating more on work and being promoted, and Rebecca would become obsessed with trying to get a job at a major law firm, and their partnership wouldn't be needed—they both could see it coming. Neither Conrad nor Rebecca were the sentimental sort, but Conrad knew he was going to miss this easy camaraderie when it was gone.

He sighed and closed his eyes, being lulled to sleep by Rebecca's slow breathing.

-End


End file.
